


To Handle a Beast

by tease



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: ASBAR fuckery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tease/pseuds/tease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Capes are oh so very useful for all types of lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Handle a Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote and posted bits of this before claiming the ASBAR BruceDickfest prompt so couldn’t submit this one. OOPS. I might continue this, who knows.

“This feels funny.”

“Think of it as training.”

“Training my ass.”

“Exactly.”

The cavern echoes with Dick’s labored breathing.  Bats screeching, water dripping down the stalactites

“But it’s hard.”

“Then you’re not worth it.”

Dick huffs, slaps his hands like thunder thudding in the cave, palm against palm, palms against thighs. “Not worth it,” Dick grumbles, takes another running, hopping start, “I’ll show you who’s not worth it.”

“What did you say, punk?”

“Nothing,” Dick flings himself to the other parallel bar, swinging himself to and fro before stiffly staying in a handstand, “I don’t see why I have to practice with this useless piece of cloth.  We always took off our cape before flying.”

Batman stays silent, regarding the active screen with his perpetual frown.  Glove encased finger scratching his stubble.

Dick sticks out his tongue at the unresponsive man, continues with his routine, flipping in the air to grasp the highest bar with his back turned away from the main room, staring into the dark dank walls of the cave.

“It just keeps slapping me on the a—butt,” he corrects himself, “Gets in the way of my awesome stunts.”

“Work with it,” Batman’s growl raises the hair on his arms and Dick almost lets go of the bar, to grab something, his ear, his neck.  His skin crawling from the breath caressing the shell of his ear, “Use it to your advantage, before they do.”

Arms shaking and palms sweating, Dick gulps, turns his head to catch a small corner of disappointed lips. “Oops,” he scoots his head a little away, not liking the weird shine that flits through Batman’s eyes, “I don’t get why-“

Dick lands on the floor mats hard, mouth tasting blood, neck constricted, “What’s the big deal!” he yells against the rubber surface before poignant weight lands on top of him.

Smelling of rubber and Gotham streets.

Muscular legs pinning his thin calves, heavy hands caging his own. 

“Learn  _this_ ,” Batman rumbles against his nape, lips ghosting, lighting Dick’s nerves on fire, pulling harder on the yellow cape wound tight around large fingers.

“What? How much you weight?” Dick jokes, closes his eyes and tries to ignore the anticipation, the sweat slowly crawling on his neck.  The roughness of the batsuit resting against his naked thighs.

The unsteady beats in his chest.

“The cape protects you,” Batman growls, winding the cloth tighter and tighter, until Dick’s pale neck is stretched, inches away from his grasp, “Just as it can harm you.”

“No kidding,” Dick fights against the cape, feels light headed out of breath, fearless.

“ _Dick_.” Batman says, surges just a tad.

Enough for Dick’s groin to rub against the rough mat, the leotard scales catching, “ _Shit_.”

“Robin” Batman shifts again, elicits a shaky moan in response. “In a couple of seconds, you will pass out.” He yanks harder on the cape, smirking when the moan chokes off, “You’re doing nothing to stop it.”

“I can’t…” Dick’s vision blurs around the edges, fingers feeling weightless.

“Try harder.”

He claws on the mats with blunt fingernails, creating an ugly dragging sound that does nothing to stop the boiling of his blood pooling down down down.  His lips slip a little with drool on the rubber surface as he pushes, trying to give his shaking arms room to unhook the yellow clasp pulled flat against his neck.

Another slow shove forces a mewl out of his mouth, derails his thoughts of escaping.

Batman growls above him, sending vibrations through each spot they’re in contact, and Dick feels the cape goes slack for a second.  It gives him a lungful of air that makes the pounding in his jock worse and his arms enough energy to push.  Wiggle and twist his torso, make it harder for Batman to hold him still.

His right leg escapes, enough leverage to put under him.  Unbalance the mass behind him. The bruising grips slip off his wrists and he’s free to buck Batman back, quickly pivoting to straddle the prone man laughing,  _laughing_ , at him. 

Small thighs perching on cut hips, smaller hands,  _delicate hands_ , curling on built abdominal.

A bigger jock underneath his ass.

“ _They_  will not give you the opportunity,” Batman sneers, tugging the cape still wound around his left hand.

Dick hates that sneer, sees it in his nightmares, his dreams, in the reflection in the mirror, mouthing  _not good enough_. 

The smirk grows with each passing moment, white teeth flashing, menacing.

Dick hates it enough to move forward, plant his palms around that arrogant head.  Soft chewed lips surrounding chapped scornful lips. 

Gentle coaxing does nothing but amuse the older man, smile meaner.

Biting, pulling, and sucking hard, almost tasting copper gets him a vice-like grip on one thigh.  Would bruise purple for days.

Would mark him for days.

Dick rests his weight on his elbows, using his fingers to slowly peel the cowl off, away.

“No good kid,” Batman holds him off with a sharp jerk, the cowl still half hiding his face.

“Damn cape,” Dick snarls, claws Batman’s chest in retaliation.

Loves the reflexive rise of Batman’s hips, the deranged,  _proud_  grin.

Dick remembers his arms are free, that he can  _unclasp_  said cape, free himself from the offending article with a triumphant yip. 

Dexterous fingers wrap the cloth securely in a knot.

Dick rises up on his knees, one hand holding strong arms down, the other holding him steady above.  Victorious.  Gloating.

Soaks it up.  Batman bound, arms useless in his smaller grip.

False power, but power nonetheless.

Batman’s ferocious smile is everything.

“Utilize it, good.”

“God, shut up,” Dick rushes up, crushes Batman’s lips with his own, devouring, tongue mapping each soft corner he can reach.  Jabbing lightly against Batman’s tongue, running over Batman’s pearly whites.

Biting harder on kiss red lips, just enough blood to make Batman smile, groan with need, want, desire so deep it reverberates in Dick’s chest.

Makes his jock so unbearably hot and suffocating.

The vest constricting.

The leotard an unwanted barrier, obtrusion.

“Batman,” He whispers, licking and blowing a stripe of skin just above the batsuit’s collar. “Do I win a prize?”

“The victor takes the spoils.”

“Damn right I do.”

“Language Robin.”

“Dang right I do,” Dick trails his fingers over muscles he’s eyed from afar, following every ridge and plane, scars and dips.  Watching each blink Batman takes, or doesn’t take, as he scoots lower, his fingers wandering down with him, slowing around a covered navel. 

Stopping on the top of the suit bottom.

“Now what?”

“Anything.”

“Anything…”Dick thinks for a while, fingers trailing on bulging thighs, fingering the outer shorts’ edges with a pout. “If you were me, I would,” Dick grabs the edges of the suit bottom, yanking it down.

Exposing the white jock shielding his target.

“Anything…” Dick sing-songs, tapping the highest peak of the cup with each syllable.

Batman’s legs flex under Dick’s thighs with each perfectly gleeful thump.

“Anything at all…” Dick drags the jockstraps down, mouth drying.

Angry red prick contrasting with the dark hair trailing around it.  Pearly white precome so familiar from Dick’s own play, but much more tantalizing.

A cursory swipe makes Batman twitch, freeze underneath his fingertips.

An indulgent pump makes him thrust into the kiss Dick places on the turgid tip.

He pushes down on cut hips to stop the older man from moving more than he already isn’t-the thought of holding Batman down when he’s bigger, when they can see eye to eye makes him suck harder, lick slower.  Focus on the tip with a pointed tongue, follow the veins until he reaches Batman’s sacs.

More sucking, rolling them, alternating as much as he can with his mouth as he listens to Batman’s breath comes shorter and faster despite his ram rod still body.  
  


“Enough,” A knee nudges his chest, still somehow clothed.  A problem that needs rectifying.

  
“Nah ah ah, big guy,” Dick waves a finger in front of the older man’s face, following it up with a quick sloppy kiss tasting of something dark and dangerous, of Batman’s precome and his eagerness.  “I won, I get to say when.”

Batman snorts before his big hands grasp the opposite sides of Dick’s chest, fingers spanning almost his whole chest like a bulletproof vest.  Flips them so fast Dick sees stars when his head bounces lightly on the mat.

“ _Dammit!_ ” Is all he gets out before his vision goes completely black, accompanied by a smooth texture sliding across his eyes and brow.

“Never take your eyes off the enemy,” A sinfully amused voice slowly drawls with lips once again too close to Dick’s ears for him to hide the shiver it causes, “Especially when you don’t secure him down.”

“You said I won,” He thrusts up against solid, so hard flesh. No longer caring, just wanting the pressure relieved, all of it off, all the cloth that stops their skin from leaving a burning trail with each movement.

“There is no winning in a skirmish,” Chapped lips ghost around the edge of his neck line, “Only who’s standing and who’s immobile.”

“No fair,” Dick protests without conviction.  He can hear the vest ripping, being ripped, off of him.  Can feel the tug as a sharp something, batarang probably, slicing off his leotard bit by bit, from the cup of his hips to his right armpit.  Totally uneven and unfinished, but he’s free to the cold damp air and the hot so hot solid mass moving above.

“Fairness,” Batman’s breath dances across his sternum, cowl’s nosetip dragging a line down Dick’s chest.  Urging Dick’s body to move, wiggle, buck against his grip, “Is merely an illusion.”


End file.
